


When You Were Young

by InfinitelyStupid



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, Light Angst, Lyon isn't a raging douchebag kid, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Series, The Author Regrets Nothing, Timeline What Timeline, oh man did I say LIGHT angst?, whoops guess things changed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5399966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfinitelyStupid/pseuds/InfinitelyStupid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While under Ur's tutelage, Gray meets Lucy in the village near his home. This is their story.<br/>_____________</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Something about this girl, about being able to bring that sunny expression back after so many tears, makes a small tug of victory curl in his gut. It's different from the hot feeling that roars approval when he stands over Lyon after a battle hard won – different even from the heady rush of satisfaction that comes from mastering a new technique. This is slower, a warmth that spreads all the way to his finger tips. All because Lucy is smiling again, with only the barest trace of lingering sadness, and it's directed at one of his stupid little ice sculptures of all things.</em><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions

One day, when he is seven years old, Ur takes them into town. It's not an unusual occurrence – they visit once a week or so for perishable supplies and “human contact”, as she likes to call it. As if she isn't human enough to them. Gray thinks it's stupid – he likes being alone in that little cottage in the perpetually snow dusted woods, away from the smiling children and the fishwives who ruddy his cheeks with their fingertips. Away from the parents who wander between stalls swinging a child between them and pulling scarves closer around young necks, gentle reprimands on their lips and _you'll catch a cold carrying on like that, my boy_. 

No. Gray likes the solitude. The lack of reminders of what was, what could have been, what _should_ have been. It's bitter, but perhaps he's too young to realise that. All he knows is that when Ur declares that they're out of grain and milk, his mood sours dramatically and he kicks up drifts of snow all the way to town while Lyon and Ur chat up ahead. 

The market is bustling when they arrive, as is the norm at noon on a weekday. Ur places a guiding hand on Lyon's shoulder and gestures towards the baker, passing him a few coins. Gray rolls his eyes, shoves his hands deeper into his parka and slinks over to the fountain in the square. It has been several months now since this routine began, but Ur still shoots him the same veiled look of concern as though it were the first time. Gray ignores it in favour of hoisting his somewhat small frame up onto the fountain edge. This is a point of much consternation for Gray at the moment; Lyon is a whole two inches taller than him, but only a year older. By now though, the movement is well practised, and with a little effort he manages to successfully avoid an icy bath. 

He gets a few good natured “hello”s from passing townsfolk who recognise him as Ur's newest pupil (mostly fishwives, though they keep their fingers to themselves thankfully), but most steer clear. He nods politely back to those who address him, but remains quiet. Instead he focuses on the slow trickle of water, trailing the fingertips of one hand gently across the surface. Ice crystals bloom in the wake of his skin, floating on the water like never-melting snowflakes. 

“Those are really pretty!” he looks up to see a pair of large brown eyes staring at him in awe from the other side of the fountain. He hadn't notice her approach, but now a girl is perched in a mirror of him on the stone plinth that wraps around the fountain. The girl's hair is yellow like gold, piled on her head in some sort of fancy twist that looks far more complex than the messy knot Ur sometimes sports during training. If Gray had to guess, he'd say the girl was about his age or maybe younger, and a frown pulls at his mouth when he realises she's alone. 

“How did you do that?” He's quickly distracted when she points at the floating crystals, and they melt away abruptly as he yanks his hand out the water. 

“Oh, what a shame! They really _were_ pretty, you know. Are you a wizard?” She looks at him again with those huge expectant eyes. Gray stuffs his hand back in his pocket and looks away. 

“Yeah.” 

“Really?!” The noise she emits makes his ears twitch in annoyance, but before he can protest or even attempt to pointedly rub at them, she's standing right in front of him in wide-eyed wonder. 

“I said so, didn't I?” He rolls his eyes and jumps down with the intent of finding Ur and _begging_ her to go home now, if that's what it takes. Maybe he'll be lucky and his master has already gathered what she needs. Unlikely – Gray had spotted her not a few moments ago hovering around a cobblers stall, and he _knows_ how much she likes shoes, no matter how many times she protests the fact. 

The girl is still blocking his path with a sunny smile though. He wonders how much weight he would need to put behind his shoulder to move her, then quickly reels back from that line of thinking. He can't hit a _girl_ , no matter how nosey she is. 

“Wow! My mother's a wizard too, but I've never met anyone else with magic! What else can you do?” Gray's patience is wearing thin, but the girl's large brown eyes are so earnest he finds himself pausing. 

“Uh, well...I make stuff. With ice. It's called Ice Maker magic.” 

“Ice maker, huh? I've read about that. Apparently it's really powerful!” Gray shrugs self consciously. 

“I guess, but I'm still learning.” Gray takes pity on the girl and throws her a bone. She's practically quivering in excitement at meeting another wizard, and he can't help but smile a little. It's obviously she cares a great deal about the subject, and he's reminded of when he first discovered the sparks of magic within himself. 

“So, what's your mom got?” The girls beams, and he knows he's asked the right sort of question as she puffs up in pride. 

“She's a celestial wizard, which means she can summon powerful spirits! I hope I can learn to do it too one day.” Gray ponders that and then gives her a doubtful look. 

“What, like ghosts?” 

“No, silly! Spirits! Beings from the celestial world who can cross over to help whoever has their gate key. You have to make a contract with them though, to make sure both spirit and wizard are respected.” The last part sounds recited, like a lesson that has been drummed in several times. 

“Sounds like a pain. I'd rather just freeze stuff.” The girl huffs. 

“Oh sure, that's pretty fun and all, but it's a totally different kind of magic.” he shrugs. Honestly, Gray doesn't really care about any other kind of magic unless it has the power to kill a demon. He doesn't mention that. 

“So.” the girl shifts restlessly, and the swishing of fabric draws his attention to what she's wearing. It's a winter coat, sure, but not from anywhere near this far north. Well made and no doubt expensive, it's certainly pretty and has a high collar to keep out the chill. Unfortunately, the weather further south is not nearly as bitter as where they stand now, and the coat is pitifully thin for winter wear. 

“You're really not from around here, are you?” she looks startled are his seemingly random observation, then follows his pointed gaze to her clothing. Her cheeks stain red from more that the brisk air. 

“Ah – no. My father has some business at the merchants guild, and my mother decided to come along. We're not really used to this sort of weather back home, I guess.” She pulls her coat a little tighter, and it seems that Gray bringing the girl's attention back to the weather has only made her more aware of how cold she has become. He notices then the small tremors that wrack her body, despite the way she's holding her elbows still to try and hide the fact. 

Before he even realises what he's doing, his winter parka is stripped off and thrust out to her. He scowls at his traitorous hands in betrayal. 

She blinks owlishly at the thick white fabric then back at his face. 

“W-wont you be cold?” he shrugs. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

“I don't get cold.” 

“Oh. Thank you.” despite her hesitant acceptance, the minute the coat has pulled over her shoulder, she burrows greedily into the residual warmth left by Gray's body heat. 

“So where are your parents?” She doesn't notice the way his breath stutters out between clenched teeth, her face pressed into the fur trimmed hood. 

“Dead.” He says shortly. That does bring her eyes up to meet his now, horror written plainly across her face. He can see her mentally floundering and turns his face away, pretending to examine the town hall. As long as he doesn't have to look at the pain in her eyes – he has enough of that himself. 

The silence stretches on until he almost gives up and just walks away, but a bloom of warmth on his forearm stops him in his tracks. 

“Come on, I saw these great little cakes earlier, but didn't have time to pick any up. Let's go!” She pulls him away gently and gives him a wide grin, all trace of earlier feelings vanished from her open expression. He looks at her uncertainly, entirely wrong-footed, and she uses that to her advantage as she leads him towards a nearby bakers. Gray isn't sure what's happening, too distracted by the calming heat radiating from the girl's palm where it rests on his forearm. He isn't really used to this kind of contact from anyone. Not since his parents- 

Not for a while, anyway. Sure, Ur sometimes takes it upon herself to adjust his stance while they're training – and Lyon is always rough housing. It's different this time though. This contact is offered as much in comfort as in guidance, or perhaps even just for the sake of contact. He's not sure how to process it. 

The girl remains oblivious to Gray's inner conflict as she purchases a box filled with cakes and pastries from a cheerful man in a dirty apron. His countenance only brightens when she pulls several coins from a fat purse tucked under her jacket. All of a sudden, Gray is having several snack cakes shoved into his hands, and she is giving him such a wide and genuine smile that he holds back the protest that jumps to his lips. Instead what falls out is “Um. Thank you?” 

“You're welcome! Come on, let's go back to fountain and you can show me your pretty crystals again!” Somehow, he ends up following her again, hands full and feeling very lost. 

The girl is kind, he realises. Not for the gift of food, but another that he is far more grateful for. Her silence. She doesn't tell him ' _I'm sorry for your loss'_ or ask ' _are you alright?_ ' the way others have. She silently acknowledged it and moved past it without trying to satisfy her own curiosity. She doesn't try and make him speak about it, and he is so unbelievably thankful for that, but doesn't know how to say so. 

Instead, he settles for sitting by the fountain, listening to her chatter and creating tiny sculptures for her to ooh and ah over, hoping beyond hope that it is enough. Her small smile tells him it is. 

They sit for a while, eating the cakes and laughing when the girl almost falls into the fountain when she reaches too far to pluck a small ice swan from the water, and Gray realises he hasn't felt this relaxed in a very long time. He's almost disappointed when a familiar voice calls his name. 

Ur stands near the entrance to the square with Lyon, motioning him over. He nods back and reluctantly slides to the ground. 

“Sorry, looks like it's time to go home. Thanks again for the cakes.” He offers her a small tentative smile. The girl also looks disappointed, but it's gone in an instant and replaced with a large smile. 

“Thank you for putting up with my questions. Oh!” she slaps a slender hand to her forehead and jumps down to stand next to him, bringing it down to thrust out instead. “I'm so sorry, I never even introduced myself! I'm Lucy Heartfelia.” 

Gray blinks at it for a moment before coming to his senses and gripping it in something resembling a handshake. Her fingers a cool from the cold, but her palm is warm against his skin. 

“Yeah, I guess I did too. Gray Fullbuster.” He quickly lets go of her hand and raises it to scratch at the back of his head, glancing away and feeling strangely embarrassed. “It was nice talkin' to you Lucy.” He gives her one last nod and turns away, catching the sad smile gracing her features out the corner of his eye. 

“You too. Bye, Gray.” 

  


Ur greets him with a suspiciously knowing smirk and cuffs him around the head in her usual greeting. Lyon just looks back at the girl – Lucy – and arches a brow but stays silent. Somehow that annoys Gray more than if he'd spoken. 

It's not until they're halfway along the frozen track leading home that he realises Lucy still has his coat. 

_Oh well,_ he thinks. _She needed it more than I do anyway._

  


  



	2. Counting Stars

It's been almost half a year since that day in the market, and the summer sun has turned most of the snow in the forest soggy. Gray hates the market even more during the summer months. The usually hard packed frozen ground is now tacky and squelches under his boots, dragging at his feet with every step. If he weren't so used to skating around on ice of his own making (a new form taught to him by Ur last month) he would have surely slipped and fallen several times already. As it is, the mud coats the hem of his trousers, and he frowns in displeasure. 

“Do we really need more milk?” He is not whining. Eight year olds do not whine. 

“Yes. Now stop complaining, or I'll make sure to double the shopping list and take my sweet time. It's up to you, Gray.” Ur sends him a sweet smile, and he barely holds back the snarl on his lips. Instead he settles for an impetuous glare and falls silent, stomping – squelching – over to his usual post by the fountain. He does not miss the victorious smirk that flits across his master's face. 

He's been sulking for a while when white fills his vision so abruptly he almost pinwheels backwards into the fountain. Instead, his hands clench into fists and a vicious curse is upon his lips as he looks for his strange assailant. 

“What the -” his eyes fall on the object in front of him, then the person holding it. He blinks once. Twice. 

It's his old jacket. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you! Here.” the jacket is shoved into his chest and he has no choice but to hold it up as he blinks stupidly at the person delivering it. “I meant to give it back a while ago, but I couldn't find you and then we had to go home. I'm glad you're here now though!” Behind his long lost jacket and sporting a contrite expression is someone he never thought he'd lay eyes on again. 

“Lucy?” Her face breaks out into a blinding grin. 

“You remembered?” Her hair is still styled in some ridiculously fancy knot, but he notes that her clothes are considerably more sensible this time around. She notices his regard and blushes lightly, twisting her gloved hands together. 

“My father made sure the tailor put an extra layer in everything this time. At least I won't have to steal any of your clothes today.” He looks down at the parka again and realises it's much cleaner than last he saw it. In fact, it's cleaner than he's _ever_ seen it. Gray raises the fabric to his face and gives it a cautious sniff, then jerks back with a twitching nose. 

“ _Wow_. That's...err...floral.” Lucy's hands twist together again, and she wilts a little. 

“i'm sorry! My governess insisted on it – I told her you wouldn't like it smelling like a girl, but it's the cleaning herbs she uses on all of my things.” He shakes his head, instantly regretting his actions. Lucy looks nervous and worried, something he never meant to cause. 

“no, it's – it's fine. Thank you for returning it. Although I'm not sure it will still fit.” He steps down to the ground – grimacing slightly as his feet sink into the wet mud – and slips it on over his jumper. 

“Wow, you're right. You weren't this tall last time I was in town, Gray.” Before, Lucy and Gray had been of an even height. Now Lucy reaches his chin and he allows himself to preen a little. He has a full inch on Lyon now, something that makes the older boy grit his teeth any time it comes up. 

“Ur said it's a growth spurt.” The coat settles on his shoulders, but he was right and it's a little short in the body now. He's distractedly pulling on the hem when Lucy speaks up again. 

“Ur?” 

“What? Oh. Ur's my master. I live with her and she's teaching me magic.” He gives up on trying to stretch the coat with a put upon sigh as it climbs his waist again, then pulls it off. 

“Here.” he holds it back out to a startled Lucy. “You wanna keep it? It's no good to me now, but you could always use an extra layer while you're here.” she looks at him and his outstretched fingers, then smiles warmly and accepts the coat back into her care. 

“Thank you, Gray. I'm sorry it took me so long, but my father wouldn't allow me to go looking for your house.” He shrugs. 

“It's fine. We live out in the forest anyway, you wouldn't have found us. Thanks for trying to return it though.” He watches the way she holds it close to her chest and feels something warm curl in his own, something suspiciously like fondness. 

“It's good to see you, Lucy.” her cheeks dimple in surprised pleasure, and he grins back. “Are you in town for your dad again?” 

“Yes, he's at the guildhall and my governess is picking up something for dinner tonight. I think.” He tries not laugh at the uncertain tone in her voice. 

“Ur's around here somewhere too - I don't like getting dragged around the stalls either. Did your mom stay home this time?” He's busy climbing back onto the fountain as he speaks, and so doesn't immediately notice Lucy's eyes growing damp. When he does, he almost falls backwards into the fountain. He's never been able to deal with girls crying. 

“H-hey! Don't cry, okay?” he reaches a helpless hand out towards her, but it just hovers awkwardly near her shoulder. He isn't prepared for the way her lips tremble, or the fat tears that slide down her cheeks. 

“M-my mom -” she takes a shaky breath and doesn't finish, but she doesn't need to as a sick realisation sinks deep in his gut. 

“Oh.” The weight in Lucy's eyes is clear to see, even for an eight year old boy. Especially for this eight year old. Gray knows the grief that swims behind her blue eyes intimately. He doesn't even notice when his hand lands on her shoulder and squeezes gently. 

They sit there silently for a few moments, Gray offering what little comfort he can, Lucy hiccuping softly and looking at her lap, one hand closed tightly around a worn leather pouch attached to her belt. He doesn't know what to say, and at the same time knows that anything he says won't do a thing to help. So he waits. Eventually her breathing comes under control and she swipes at her eyes a few times. Her voice is small when she speaks. 

“Sorry.” he shakes his head. 

“Don't be.” 

They sit quietly for a moment before an idea strikes the young ice mage. He lets go of her shoulder and jumps down, only to grab her hand instead and pull her down beside him. 

“C'mon, there's this great little baker just around the corner, but I've not been in months. I feel like paying a visit, you wanna come?” she looks at him oddly for a minute, and he thinks that for a little girl she sure looks old right now. Then her face breaks out into a weak smile, and she nods. 

“Sounds good.” he pulls her gently along behind him and pretends not to hear the thickness in her voice or the redness of her eyes, and she pretends not to notice the way his hand tightens when her breath hitches as an after effect of her crying. 

The baker is quick to smile at the clearly upset little girl, offering her a clean rag and a sweet roll to cheer her spirits while Gray counts his money. Lucy manages a watery smile back and laughs at a funny face the man pulls, and Lucy decides that yes, she likes this town very much. She doesn't notice the overly-exaggerated wink the man sends to Gray alongside his change, or the way Gray has to reign in a black expression in gratitude for the way he cheered Lucy up. 

The girl in question is chewing anxiously on her bottom lip as Gray fills her arms with sweets, glancing from his face to his clearly much lighter coin purse on his belt. 

“What?” Lucy shows no sign of noticing the clipped tone of voice, seemingly struggling to voice her words. 

“You didn't have to do this, Gray – I would have been more than happy to pay for them,” He tries not to get offended. 

“S'fine. Not like I would've bought anything else anyway. Besides, I owe you.” she still looks unsure, so he opts for thrusting the rest of her share of cakes into her arms like she did to him all those months before and heads back to the fountain. She blinks down at the cakes for a moment, then trips after him in a hurry to catch up. She's close behind, but too far away to see the rose dusting his cheeks – something he's grateful for. He doesn't know what he looks like, only that his face is too hot to be comfortable. 

Lucy catches up to him as he's settling back into his familiar spot by the fountain, his own snacks gathered in a small pile at his side. Lucy is quick to scramble up beside him, and he is glad to feel his cheeks return to a regular temperature. 

She sits quietly for a moment, staring down at her hands, and Gray glances around uncomfortably as he realises he has no idea what to say to the girl. She surprises him when she lifts her head and shows him the most serious expression he's seen from her. 

“Thank you, Gray.” he doesn't ask what for, just looks away with a muttered “yeah” and goes back to swinging his legs aimlessly against the fountain. It's awkward, but not so much that he wants to leave. 

Instead, he closes his fist tightly, his eyes following shortly after as faint blue light shimmers from within his fingers. Lucy looks at it curiously and lets out a shocked gasp of delight when he unfurls his fingers to reveal a perfectly formed lotus blossom nestled within. He lowers his hand to the water and allows it to slip off him palm. It bobs for a moment then settles, drifting gently in the wake caused by it's own ripples. 

Lucy's smile has visibly brightened, and he tries not to smile too much himself. He isn't used to the stretch on his facial muscles, and frankly he doesn't like the odd looks he's been getting from the townsfolk used to his solemn glare. Lucy seems to draw out his smile like nothing else, and it's ruining his image around town. Instead he settles for smug, something far less tender and far more common for him. 

Something about this girl, about being able to bring that sunny expression back after so many tears, makes a small tug of victory curl in his gut. It's different from the hot feeling that roars approval when he stands over Lyon after a battle hard won – different even from the heady rush satisfaction that comes from mastering a new technique. This is slower, a warmth that spreads all the way to his finger tips. All because Lucy is smiling again, with only the barest trace of lingering sadness, and it's directed at one of his stupid little ice sculptures of all things. 

“I almost forgot how amazing that was,” Her words carry on the still air, more than likely meant only for herself, but he hears them clearly. 

Feeling bold, he shucks off his shoes, rolls his pant legs up past his knees and steps into the water. It comes up to just below his knees and she thinks he must be frozen – says as much. 

“Nah,” is his unphased reply. “Ice wizard, remember?” he sends a ripple of his element to lap up playfully at where she's perched, and she squirms away with a squeal. 

“Just because you're some kind of yeti, it doesn't mean I wanna be cold too!” she crosses her arms and glares at him, and he can't help but huff out a quiet chuckle at her miffed expression. 

“Alright, alright,” he holds up his hands in apology. “Any requests?” 

She regards his hands with suspicion for a moments longer until hope creeps into her open expression. 

“You mean it?” 

“Sure, why not?” he tries not to preen too much, stretching his arms over his head and cracking his knuckles. Okay, so he's showing off a little. 

“Can you make the stars?” one small hand is clutching at that leather pouch attached to her belt again, and the other is closed tightly at her chest. What catches him off guard is the intense look of longing that accompanies her request. Odd, but somehow he can see how much this simple thing she's asking of him means to her. So instead of the cocky half formed answer on his lips, he merely nods and casts his own hand out, flash freezing the fountain water. 

All around him, tiny droplets of water caught in a single moment sparkle as they solidify and catch the light of the weak winter sun. They scatter, some randomly, and others in real constellations – the few that he actually knows. As they settle, he chances a glance up at Lucy and almost cringes back. 

Her hand is still clutching protectively at the leather pouch, but the other has moved to cover her mouth. It's trembling. Lucy's eyes are shiny as she stares down at the hundreds of crystals scattered bellow her, and he curses himself. Gray has only just stopped the waterworks, but through his own actions Lucy looks like she's ready to bawl all over again. He frowns and takes a step towards her, then she looks up and he is frozen under her stare. 

What he had originally taken as intense sorrow is in fact joy. Pure and utter joy spreads across her face, and he realises that yes, she's on the verge of tears but these are not borne of pain and suffering. 

She looks away again, taking in the sight of her very own stars. 

“Oh, _Gray_. It's perfect.” even her voice is a battle between the thickness of unshed tears and the sheer warmth behind her emotion. Gray suddenly feels very awkward again. Maybe he'd overdone it. 

“It's really not _that_ great, I mean I only know a couple of constellations so most of it is wrong-” 

She cuts him off by testing the weight of one foot against the ice. Satisfied she won't mar the ice with cracks or fall through, she reaches over and grabs his arm, tugging him eagerly to one side. 

“No, but it's still amazing! I mean look, that's Cancer, right?” He squints at where she's pointing and nods. It's one of the few he _does_ know. “Right, so if you come over here, then this is where Virgo should be.” she traces a path across the ice with a slender finger, and he obligingly draws up a small bead of ice under every point where her fingertip pauses. 

“See? It's not one hundred percent accurate, but it's still close!” She stands back to look at their combined effort, and the satisfied grin on her lips brings a pleased quirk to his own. 

“Wow, Lucy, you really know your stars huh?” she shrugs, cheeks darkening as she glances away. 

“I don't know them all – not yet. These are just the ones my mom taught me.” She chews on her lip a little, and he can see her fighting back the surge of emotion. 

“I think you'll know them all the next time I see you. It's a challenge.” the result is exactly what he was looking for. Lucy's gaze meets his evenly and her brow is creased in determination. 

“Well you'd be right about that! Next time we meet, Gray Fullbuster, I'll be a celestial wizard and I'll know every single star there is! You just watch!” he hides a grin and looks down at their creation with a sigh. 

“It's a shame this won't last. Even magic ice melts eventually.” Lucy looks sad for a moment so he springs up and levels a finger at her face. “So I guess that just means you gotta come back so we can do it again!” 

She laughs at his determined and unwavering expression, dark brows pulled down in something close to petulance. 

“Yeah, of course I will! And this time it'll be perfect!” they grin at each other for a moment, then Lucy breaks the silence. 

“Hey.” he looks up. “We're friends, right?” he visibly falters for a moment. _Or maybe not_. 

Before she can say anything to steal back her words though, he gathers himself and grins. 

“Yeah, I guess we are.” it's not something he's used to or knows much about, really. Friends? no. Rival? Teacher? Passing acquaintance? All things he is familiar with. _Friend_? No. But he thinks this must be pretty close. 

Once again, they're interrupted my Ur's melodic voice calling out to them across the square. Gray sits up straighter to seek her out with his eyes, nodding back when he finds his master a few stalls down. 

“Guess it's that time again.” Lucy nods, not even trying to mask her disappointment now. 

“Hey.” she looks up when a cool hand rests on her shoulder, meeting eyes the colour of midnight in the dimming sunlight. “Next time, right? I'll wait here whenever I'm in town. Come find me if you're around.” she nods again, but this time with lighter spirits and clear eyes. 

“I promise to learn all the stars by then. I won't let you down!” he doesn't mention that it's not himself she'd let down, but she probably already knows that. Instead, he offers her a small but genuine smile and ruffles her neatly coiffed hair so that a few strands escape the ties and stick up in blonde tufts. She giggles and makes a half-hearted slap at his hands, but she doesn't put any real force behind it. Gray thinks she secretly likes the gesture. 

“See ya later, Luce.” 

“Yeah, see you Gray.” 

She watches him leave with fond eyes, watches the woman he approaches mimic his actions and mess up his unruly dark hair when he reaches her side, sees the way the boy with stark white hair and sharp eyes watches them with barely concealed amusement. 

_Family_ , she thinks with a deep sense of longing that startles her. She's suddenly aware of just how much she wants to have something like that. A place where she is free to learn her mothers magic without restriction, have friends who aren't paid to be by her side, have _Gray_ , the kindest stranger she's ever met. Even if he is a little sullen and awkward at times. 

She hardens her heart and turns to leave. 

She may not be able to stay here, but she can keep her promise. She will learn every single star in the night sky, and then she will summon her mother's spirits (her spirits now – she pushes that down) and become a real celestial wizard. 

“When I come back, Gray, maybe I'll have something to show _you_ for a change.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! (finally)
> 
> Please let me know if you spot any grammar/spelling mistakes :) This work is unbeta'd, so there's probably going to be a few errors even after I've gone through it myself!
> 
> Thanks to anyone who has taken the time to read this, and to those who left kudos :3


	3. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, I have dragged my arse to my computer and actually got some writing done. Hope it was worth the wait! :)

From that point onwards, visits from Lucy are few and far between – lasting only a few days each month. Despite this, the two become fast friends, and Ur even consents to bringing Gray into town each day Lucy is around. Lyon accepts this with no small amount of grumbling as he is dragged along (but not so much since Ur physically dragged him by an ear that one time) and Gray pretends that he doesn't care either way. Lucy has taken to writing ahead, so whenever news of her arrival comes to their cabin not even Lyon can miss the way Gray's mood lightens; even if his expression remains as sombre as ever. 

Lucy does, in fact, learn several new constellations before each visit, and on the occasions her governess allows a late night excursion to the edge of town, she teaches them to Gray. Away from the centre of town and the light pollution, the sky is so much clearer and the two lie on their back in the snow for a good hour each time as Gray burns the positions of each star into his memory. 

Each time, Gray and Lucy add a few new beads of ice on their star map. He feels an odd sense of accomplishment watching the empty spaces fill up with the celestial bodies captured in a single moment. It's nice, he thinks to himself, having something to work towards besides getting stronger. Not that learning maker magic isn't a large enough goal for him, but it's one that also belongs to Leon. This? It's all his. Well, his and Lucy's, but somehow he doesn't feel so reluctant to share with her. Wants to, even. 

Although they don't talk about them, Gray knows they both have parent-related issues. Lucy still gets a hauntingly sad look in her hazel eyes whenever something reminds her of her mother. He notices she has taken to touching the leather pouch on her belt, almost reassuringly, to help collect herself whenever they stray too near the subject. 

Gray can't blame her. He doesn't want to talk about his parents either. 

He does however feel like Lucy is an escape of sorts. As much as he has come to love and respect Ur, she is a constant reminder that someone else should be in her place. Lucy is new in his life, post Deliora – she holds no previous affiliation to him, no bad memories. When they speak, its just them. No shared baggage. Ur may be the safe harbour in the storm, but Lucy is the lightship keeping him from dashing against the rocks. 

And then one day, months after their first meeting, Lucy arrives with the largest smile he's seen yet, pulls out something gold from her mysterious belt pouch, and sticks her whole hand in the fountain. 

The city guard are called out, the traders in the market are given the scare of their life and wet socks, and Lucy can make an angry fish lady appear from the fountain. 

Gray thinks it's the best thing he's ever seen. 

“I've been practising for months with the silver keys, but I didn't want to show you until I could summon a zodiac spirit. Those are the gold keys, see?” she holds out a large ring with only four keys clipped on. He doesn't comment on how bare it looks, thinking it doesn't look like much at all, but the way Lucy cradles them tells a whole other story. Then he remembers the angry fish lady and thinks it's probably best not to judge by appearance. He side eyes the golden key with the water details on the handle nervously. 

“So the gold keys are more powerful?” she nods, lighting up at his obvious interest. 

“Uh-huh! I mean all the keys are powerful in their own way, but the Zodiacs – the gold keys – are the strongest. You know, Cancer, Leo, Taurus...the big constellations!” Suddenly a thought hits him. 

“Right!” the excitement starts to creep into his voice, and she giggles softly at the animation in his face. He's suddenly aware of how Lucy must have felt seeing his magic for the first time. “So that mean lady must have been...” he furrows his brows in thought. “Aquarius?” 

“Yeah, you got it!” she pouts a little. “I mean, she's not _always_ mean. Just...when I summon her from anything other than the ocean. She's kinda picky.” 

“Sounds like a real handful.” 

“Nah, she's my friend – all of my spirits are! You've just got to break through her tough shell. I'm getting there.” 

Gray pretends he doesn't feel an uncomfortable stabbing in his gut when she talks about her new friends. He's happy for her, really. He smiles and asks her to tell him everything, because she looks so damn happy and he can't bear to take that away from her with his pettiness. Lucy always has a smile at the ready for Gray, but he can't pretend he doesn't see the loneliness that shadows her eyes, or her tone of voice when she speaks of her big empty house. _At least one of us deserves happiness_. 

Plus, he can't deny his curiosity. Summoning Aquarius drained a lot of Lucy's still growing magic reserves, but she agrees to call out a silver key to show him properly. He doesn't say “are you sure you're up for it?”, knows it won't be appreciated, despite how her face has lost some of the little colour she normally has. Instead he settles for laying a hand on her thin shoulder then quickly backs up to give her space. Lucy knows her own limits better than he ever will. 

He watches her bring out the silver key and take a solid stance, feet planted and shoulders back as she recites the incantation for Crux the Southern Cross. He thinks she's never looked so confidant or comfortable. A bell tolls somewhere in the distance (or was it right in front of them? The echo is hard to place, resonating through the air around them) and Lucy is bathed in an otherworldly glow, catching her already golden hair until it looks like fire whipping around her pale features. He tries not to stare in awe as her magic comes alive, manages to stop the hand that reaches up to rub at his eyes. He's seen some amazing things, but never anything like this. 

The large ornate cross that appears on the ground should really spoil the effect – Gray can definitely see some drool running from the corner of the spirit's mouth as he saws logs into the silence – but it doesn't. He can only stare in sheer amazement that this creature, this _being,_ is from another dimension. Literally. 

“This is Grandpa Crux. He's the librarian of the Celestial World and the keeper of knowledge. So if you ever have a question, he's usually got an answer. Since I couldn't find a tutor, he's really been helping me out with learning about my magic.” Gray tries to imagine teaching himself Ice Make magic without any input from Leon and Ur. Blanches. She really is something else. 

“Wow, that's a really handy spirit ya got there, huh?” she nods pleasantly and clears her throat. 

“Grandpa Crux?” the old cross snorts awake with a flail and looks around bleary eyed. He stares in confusion at Gray for a moment before he catches sight of Lucy. 

“Ah, Miss Heartfilia! How can I be of service today?” Lucy smiles warmly at the spirit and shrugs, a laugh playing around her mouth. 

“Hello Grandpa Crux, I don't have any questions today, I just wanted to introduce my best friend to you!” she skips over and hooks a slim hand around Gray's elbow, then proceeds to drag him across the snow to where the spirit sits cross legged and with no regard to the wet ground below him. 

“Ah yes, Gray Fullbuster I presume? I have heard plenty about you, young man.” Gray suddenly feels a sharp twinge of nervousness in his chest. He has? What has he heard? 

“O-oh. Yeah, that's me, nice to meet you.” he doesn't realise the arm Lucy isn't holding is making it's way upwards until he's already scrubbing uncomfortably at the back of his head, fighting down the embarrassing pink flush that threatens his cheeks. 

“Don't worry so, child. It's all been good things from Miss Heartfilia, I promise. That girl would sing your praises to the very heavens if she could,” Crux chuckles, a wheezy metallic noise that sounds both comforting and alien all at once. One glance at Lucy shows a delicate rose colouring her cheeks as she glares half heartedly at the old spirit. He looks away again quickly. 

“Grandpa Crux, please stop!” Lucy's whine only seems to draw out an amused smile from the elderly spirit, and he watches her leg twitch in an aborted move to stomp her foot. Gray can't help the small snigger that slips out, and immediately throws up his hands when Lucy turns on him. 

“Don't you laugh at me, Gray Fullbuster!” he holds back another laugh that threatens to burst out at her flushed face and less than composed appearance. Instead he settles his expression into something resembling innocence. 

“Me? I would never.” she side eyes him for a long moment and he holds his breath deep in his lungs. When her eyes finally slide away with a huff he lets it out slowly and smirks to himself. Something he's learned over the last year or so is that while Miss Lucky Lucy Heartfilia is the model of a perfect little debutante in training, Lucy who lies in the mud and counts the stars has a scary mean streak a mile wide when she feels like it. It's something he's rather come to enjoy testing, poking the bear as it were to see what kind of reactions he can garner. His proudest moment was the time she'd pushed him straight into the fountain when they'd been practising ice skating. She'd managed to find a weak spot in his ice. In all honesty, he had deserved it with all the poking fun at her silly coiffed hairdos, but he'd inwardly cheered at the break in her perfect facade. 

Gray knows Lucy, and he knows that the polite mask of nobility she wears is just that – a mask. One placed on her by her father, no doubt. He lives for the moments when he manages to uncover another piece of the Lucy she carefully locks away. 

Not that he thinks she's by any means fake – not at all! No, he just knows that there are certain behaviours that are not deemed _appropriate_ for a young lady, and he knows that while Lucy is naturally polite and pleasant (and above all, _kind_ ), she is also a real person. Nobody is that perfect, and nobody should have to be. Especially not the girl in front of him. Because when Gray manages to get a reaction like that, Lucy's eyes light up in a way he's seen only a handful of times. It's the same light he'd seen when watching her summon her spirits. 

It's freedom. 

* * * 

It's another month before he hears from Lucy again. She writes, and he wrestles the thick envelope from Lyon's grubby hands, shoots him a black glare and a snap of an ice whip for good measure. The older boy only smirks and watches Gray's retreating back heading for the front door. If a letter ever appears after sunset, Gray always _always_ reads it outside where he can see the stars. Most often than not, Lucy has detailed some constellation or another in her letter, and he likes being able to find it with his own two eyes while Lucy's flowing script spells out it's shape and position. This is what they do when she knows she won't be visiting for a while, so they can keep up to date with their work, she says. He knows it's more likely a way to pretend they're in each other's company. At least, that's what it is to him. 

Reading her letter, he can imagine the laughter in her tone with each playful flick on her lettering, hears her sadness when the words become more deliberately scribed, like she's choosing her words a little more carefully. He can feel the heat of her anger in each sharp jab that marks punctuation, the nib of her pen biting into the heavy and fine quality paper. It confuses him a little, realising that he knows her well enough to translate the smallest detail into her mood. He's never had that level of understanding over another person. It's scary. 

Gray doesn't open up to anyone. His heart is hardened, his personality frosty. He doesn't, and he can't. 

_Or so I thought._

Apparently he has, and that scares him. Lucy has gotten under his armour in such a short space of time that it leaves him reeling if he thinks too much on it. Even before Deliora, Gray had never been a particularly open child. After it all happened, after he lost the few friends and family he had, he'd closed off even further. If he didn't care about anyone, then it wouldn't hurt when they left. And they would always leave. 

But now, he realises that he really does care for Lucy. He hasn't thought too hard on it before, just kind of accepted her presence in his life – never question it. He is surprised to find a distinct lack of panic welling up at the realisation. He's...okay with this? Yeah. Maybe he is. 

It's been over a year now since their first meeting, but Gray feels like he's known Lucy forever. She always know the right thing to say to elicit a rare smile from him (although not so rare any more), always manages to smile herself no matter the thoughts that seem to plague her. He knows all of her smiles – the toothy grin that speaks of happiness, the wide almost vicious stretch of her mouth in victory, the small tick in her right cheek when she's sad but trying to mask it. Gray's seen them all and more, cemented their place in his memory without even realising. Sometimes he wonders if she's done the same for him. 

His eyes wander back to the letter in his hands and he tries not to feel utterly crushing disappointment. Lucy's father won't be coming back to Gray's town on business for another few months. His heart sinks to his toes anyway. She promises to write every couple of weeks, but it's not the same. They both known it isn't. 

Gray resigns himself to months of utter boredom. 

* * * 

“That creature is rampaging through the Northern continent. It's a damn tragedy.” 

“What, you don't mean Deliora, do you?” 

“That's right. Finally got sick of the eastern countries, I guess. Heard it was heading for Brago next – a couple of seal hunters spotted it on the tundra.” 

“May the Gods have mercy on those poor souls.” 

Somewhere on a beaten caravan trail, a bag of groceries lie forgotten. 

* * * 

_Dear Lucy,_

_I'm just writing to let you know that I'll be gone for a little while, so don't freak out if you manage to make it up here and I'm not around, okay? There are some things I've got to take care of further north. It's kinda difficult to explain in a letter, but I guess we've known each other long enough that I should tell you this._

_I trust you, Luce._

_A little while before I met you, I used to live in a little town out east with my parents. It was mostly peaceful, but then the rumours of disappearances started - mostly up in the mountains nearby, sometimes on the hunting trails too. People used to say the hills around the town were haunted, but we never saw much inside the town itself. Sometimes we'd hear a strange sort of roar off in the distance, but it was always really echoey like it was miles and miles away. Then one day, everything just...well, it went to hell._

_I woke up in the middle of the night, people were screaming and crying and I couldn't figure out what was going on. All these crazy lights outside the window like the sky was on fire, horrible noises that sounded like the mountains were falling down around us. When I looked out, I saw it. Deliora. A demon, Luce. It was huge, bigger than anything I've ever seen, and it was destroying everything in its path. It was destroying the town. My mother came running in and grabbed me, my dad had already left to try and help. He was in the town guard. We made it halfway across town with everyone else from our block of houses by the time it reached our part of the city._

~~_I watched my mother_ ~~

~~_There was so much bl_ ~~

_When I came around, Ur was pulling me out the rubble. No one else made it._

_Lucy, Deliora is back. It's on it's way to Brago to do the same thing to them. I have to stop it. I have to take revenge for my family. I've gotten so much stronger since then, I_ know _I can take it out, and so that's what I'm gonna do. Ur doesn't want me to go, but what the hell does she know? She just doesn't get it._

_I hope you will._

_Don't wait up for me, I'll be at the fountain quicker than you can summon that weird mermaid spirit and we can finish up that star map. It's almost done now, right?_

_See you soon, Luce._

_\- Gray_


	4. A Traveller's Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, un-beta'd and posted late at night, so possibly a few errors in here. Sorry in advance and please point any out so I can correct them! I finally managed to get another chapter out, and I have to get up for work in four hours, so I really hope you guys like it haha

Lucy feels like she's going to be sick. 

  


Gray's letter lies on the rug beside the hearth, crumpled at the edges where her grip has wrinkled the thin paper. She sits in an armchair, knees drawn up to her chest, and she breathes. Or at least she tries to. 

  


_Come on, Lucy. Slow deep breaths like mama taught you._

  


She clenches her eyes shut tight, tries not to think about Gray facing off against a faceless horned monster taller than the sky. 

  


_In, hold it for five...out. In, hold for five...out. In..._

  


A choked sob manages to escape and she presses her white knuckles into her eye sockets as if she can forcibly push the moisture gathering there back. Gray is strong, stronger than anyone she knows. He's a talented wizard, and his magic has strong roots in offensive spells. So why is she so scared? 

  


_Because he's in over his head. This thing wiped out an entire town and he wants to go toe-to-toe with it. Alone._

  


She shudders at the images playing behind her eyelids. Gray lying in the snow, battered and broken. Gray being picked up in one huge meaty fist and crushed to death. Eaten. Stepped on. 

  


She knows she should have more faith in her friend, knows that he is so much stronger than she gives him credit for, but she can't help it. The what-ifs float around and around her mind, each making it's way to the surface to torment her with possibilities. If Gray is travelling then she can't send a letter. She must rely on him making contact. She can't beg him to come back. 

  


The only other way of speaking to him is travelling to Brago herself – and there is not a snowball's chance in hell her father will agree to it. Even if he did, she'd never make it in time – it takes roughly two weeks for letters between her and Gray to arrive at their destination, so he's already got a two week head start. And what if she did go? What if she made it in time? What could she possibly do to help? Lucy only has two keys capable of offensive magic, one requires a water source to summon which she can't rely on always being available. She can only keep the golden gates open for ten minutes or so before her magic is completely exhausted, and that's without them using any magical attacks. The gates use her magic to open and then _stay_ open, and any magic used in Earthland by a spirit is fuelled mostly by the celestial wizard's magic. She's useless. 

  


A crushing air of guilt hangs over her head. This whole situation is too familiar. She can't stop it, can't protect the one she loves. She's helpless to do anything but let events play out, take its course and pray. Pick up the pieces in the end. 

  


She still hasn't gathered all the shards in her heart from last time; how can she possibly take on the task of doing the same for Gray? 

  


“No!” Lucy's fists batter into the arms of her chair, propelling her to stand in front of the fire. She glares down at the flames with tears pooling in livid eyes and vows that this time, _just this once_ , she won't be the scared little girl who sits in silence and watches another member of her family fall. Gray has taught her what strength is, not just the physical kind. She wants to be the kind of person that he can believe in, not just the stupid airhead heiress that everyone expects. She doesn't know how to get to Brago, but she knows how to get to Gray's village. 

  


  


* * * 

  


“What do you mean, _gone_?” the woman's head lowers so quickly he is surprised her chin doesn't knock off her collarbone. Her shoulders hunch over and he tries not to let the way she wrings her hands pull on his already taut nerves. 

  


“I-I...I'm sorry sir, Lady Lucy was in her room when I retired for the night! I thought that when I couldn't find her this morning she had perhaps gone for a stroll in the hedge maze as she is wont to do most mornings. When she didn't arrive for lunch I became worried and sent the gardeners to look for her, but...but she is nowhere to be found, sir!” the woman chokes back a sob and flinches when he rises sharply to his feet. 

  


“And you are sure she is not in one of the quieter wings of the house?” the woman nods her head pitifully and tries to swipe at the tears threatening to fall. It would not do to lose her composure in such a way in front of the master of the house, especially when conveying the dreadful news that his only heir has vanished into the night. She hears a strange creaking groan and glances up to see the Lord's hands clamped tight on the edges of his desk. She chances a look upwards to his stoically calm expression and quickly lowers her gaze to her feet once more. 

  


“Notify the local authorities at once. This is most likely a ransoming, and a kidnapper cannot make it so far in a few hours when towing a little girl behind him.” He turns his back on the cowering servant, folds his hands behind his back and stares out the large window behind his desk. It's an obvious dismissal, and so the woman scurries out of the study, only breathing a sigh of relief when she is safely in the hall. 

  


The man lifts his chin and allows some of the pent up rage swirling inside to break out across his face. 

  


“If she's anything like you, Layla, this is no kidnapping.” 

  


When no answer comes, he growls into the empty silence of his once warmth-filled study, regrets the light-hearted comment that will always be hoped for but never given. Knowing he is alone, the Lord weeps. 

  


  


* * * 

  


  


Lucy keeps her head down, pulls the borrowed wool shawl closer around her head to hide the telltale yellow hair tucked underneath. There are a couple of chambermaids a few years older than her who keep their work clothes in the laundry room. She is tall enough that the roughspun tunic she swiped looks like a long dress rather than a potato sack trailing the ground and tripping her every step. It's getting colder the further she walks and Lucy is thankful she thought far enough in advance to pull two pairs of leggings on underneath the tunic. They are surprisingly comfortable, a far sight more so than her frilly dresses and underskirts. She feels like she can _breathe_. 

  


Over the past few days she has walked farther than ever before. Sometimes a nice fieldworker or a caravan trader will offer her a ride to the next crossroads when they see the young girl stumbling up the track. She agrees gratefully and slings her pack into the back each time, making sure the clinking of coin is heavily muffled by the blanket she has wrapped around her purse. As thankful as she is, she never brings the money out on the road, not even to offer in payment for the short ride. Lucy knows better than to give herself away like that – after all, what would a poor young girl be doing with a purse full of jewels? Best case scenario, they would realise she is not, in fact a poor little girl, but the runaway Heartfilia heiress whom the authorities are doing their best to find. Worst case, they would assume she's a thief and have her arrested, or worse still rob her themselves. 

  


Instead, she loads up on food whenever she passes a town and offers that up to the kind people who help her. Most turn it down stating that she needs it more. Others look at her like she's hung the stars and she feels a mixture of pleasure and bile rise up when they do. She is happy to help them, but it sickens her to realise that there are so many struggling while she and her father live in more-than-relative comfort. She thinks to some of the gardeners that work the rose bushes on her father's land, thinks of the patches and repair stitches on their clothes. Looks at the dark garb she's lifted from the laundry room. 

  


Her father is a shrewd business man, one who has built up an entire fortune by himself and raised his family to noble status. It would seem this is something he applies to his own household too. She lifts her chin as she walks, determined to change that when she gets home. 

  


If she gets home. 

  


She pushes the thought down and trudges on. Lucy will not think about what waits for her at the end of her journey – can't think about what she might find. Gray will be there. She might even get lucky enough to meet him on the road home as he returns victorious. She lets a small smile flit across her lips, lost in thought. 

  


The days pass in relative peace, her small feet eating up the miles when they can. Lucy finds that she rather likes sleeping rough under a large tree with her mother's stars laid out above her. There is something infinitely comforting about feeling their watchful eyes on her. She practices her summoning when the roads are empty – in the flat field planes of the countryside, she can see for miles in any direction, and any travellers are spotted long before they reach her. Horlogium and Crux have been both steadfast companions and valued tutors on her journey, as they help practice slowly stretching out her pools of magic and strengthening the bond between spirit and summoner. Crux had been keeping her busy with lessons on various types of spirits and demons, though he'd focussed more particularly on Deliora when the subject had arisen. 

  


“Deliora is one of the more powerful creatures from the books of Zeref – do you remember your lessons on them, child?” Lucy nods thoughtfully as she walks alongside the floating spirit. “Good. He comes from the race known as 'Etherious', beings made entirely of ethernano. It also means that Deliora cannot die from natural causes. He does not age, does not sleep, does not eat. He is a creature made for one thing, and one thing only: destruction.” Lucy feels a shiver climb her spine at the thought. 

  


“And that's what killed Gray's parents? How awful.” Crux crosses his arms and nods sagely. 

  


“Yes, a terrible thing indeed. Deliora has been travelling the world for decades, moving from town to town and destroying everything in his path. Unfortunately for many, including young master Fullbuster, his hometown was one of the most recent attacks. There were very few survivors.” 

  


Lucy fights off the telltale itch inside her eyelids and glares out at the path ahead. 

  


“Why has nobody stopped it?” 

  


“Because he is immensely powerful. You must understand, miss, a creature with the magnitude of power which he possesses is no easy opponent. Many wizards have tried to destroy the demon. All have failed.” A new ball of bleak dread adds itself to the already large mass in her chest. 

  


“And Gray thinks he can do it? That's insane! How can he think he can take on that thing alone, when fully fledged wizards couldn't do it?” She wants to scream and cry and pull her hair out in frustration, but it won't help a thing. She settles for flexing her hand into a fist and twisting the strap of her satchel violently again and again until the stress lessens enough so she can breathe again. 

  


“Master Fullbuster is young and naïve. He is also in a great deal of pain. Perhaps he feels he can prove himself by facing his past head on, or perhaps he truly believes he is the wizard for the job. Nevertheless, I am sure we will come across news of him in the coming days. We are nearing our destination.” 

  


Crux gestures to the skyline melting from the horizon and vanishes with a sombre nod, leaving Lucy alone with her thoughts. She wishes he hadn't gone after giving her so much information to ponder. Its almost all too much to take in. 

  


She walks the rest of the way in utter silence, focussing on tracking the moon across the sky as it makes it's ascent into the night. 

  


It only takes another hour or two to make it to the city gates. It takes another to find an inn skeevy enough to give a room to an unaccompanied little girl, but upstanding enough that she won't be robbed in her sleep. That night, she falls into a fitful sleep with nothing but rafters above her head, void of the silver glow that has lulled her into dreamland for the last week and a half. 

  


* * * * 

  


  


Lucy wakes early and confused. A real bed is a luxury she hasn't experienced in over a week, and it takes a moment to get her bearings. When she realises where she is, the girl practically flies across the room to the washbasin, eyes hungrily taking in the hot water tap – she nearly weeps when she discovers a bathtub hidden discreetly behind a changing screen. She allows herself a little longer in the bath than usual, eager to rid herself of the travelling dirt she'd acquired on the road, then makes herself presentable for the day. She doesn't know exactly how it works in this city, but she knows enough that most people will ignore a child who looks like a beggar. She cleans up enough that she looks like a normal kid, but not so much that she will be recognised as coming from money. She keeps the roughspun tunic, but makes sure her hair is tidy and covered by a head square and heads out to face the day. 

  


The innkeepers have been up for a while by the looks of things, and they smile pleasantly at her as she greets them good morning. She'll ask around away from her homebase so not to arouse too much suspicion. In part she feels almost like a spy with all her silly tactics, but on the other hand she doesn't know how much time she has before her father sends men to check here. It's not a short leap to assume she's gone to the only place where she has a friend. 

  


She heads to the main square first and buys some breakfast from the nearest baker while she ponders how to go about her line of questions. It isn't the same baker she and Gray have visited often, Mr. Allen, but he isn't off the list completely. Mr Allen will be sure to recongise her, and he'll be sure to know something of Gray. She'll save him for last if her search turns nothing else up. 

  


Instead, she wanders the markets, pretending to browse and keeping her ears pricked up for anything interesting. Fishwives have a reputation to gossip for a reason, after all. After a few hours, she finally hears something of interest. 

  


“-not seen Ur in a while. Do you think those boys of hers have gotten to be too much of a handful after all?” Lucy freezes and slides behind a nearby cart, edging closer to get a view of the two women talking behind a cloth stall. 

  


“No,” says the other woman, waving a hand carelessly. “I hear one of them ran off and she had to chase after him. She checked in with Bron on her way out of town, said she had to pick up travelling supplies. Sounded like it was probably going to be a long trip, but that man is as tight lipped as ever – thats all he'd tell me!” the other woman giggles and holds up a swath of fabric to her friends chest. 

  


“Now now, how are you ever going to catch him if all he thinks you want is the latest information on his customers? Honestly Hildy, you'd think your mother never taught you anything!” The pair descends into good-natured squabbling, and Lucy realises their conversation isn't relevant to her anymore. Luckily, she managed to catch something of interest in their chatter. She needs to find this Bron. 

  


  


* * * 

  


Some quiet enquiries into travelling supplies points Lucy in the right direction; a small shopfront near the north gate, almost tucked away into the side street it neighbours. A bell above the door tinkles cheerfully in greeting when she steps inside, and a thin man with a trimmed beard steps out of a back room. He greets her with a warm smile. 

  


“Welcome, welcome! What can I do for you, my dear?” Lucy shuffles nervously. 

  


“H-hello.” she clears her throat and steels her resolve. This is ridiculous! Gray needs her! 

  


“Good afternoon,” there, much better. “I was hoping you can help me. I'm looking for Gray Fullbuster, and I heard you spoke to his master not long before she left town. Have you heard any news of either of them?” The man gives her a long searching look that she feels right down to her bones. She tries in vain to keep her feet still. 

  


“Hmm. Not quite what I was expecting, no.” She tries not to frown and fails at that too. 

  


“And what were you expecting?” 

  


They stare at each other in challenge for another long moment. He finally breaks eye contact with a loud guffaw. 

  


“Now _that_ I was expecting. Strong headed as they say, child! Come, sit.” Lucy is incredibly nonplussed by the shopkeepers behaviour, but indeed follows him to a low table and chairs in the corner of the room. The man settles her in and disappears for a moment to apparently retrieve an old, slightly worse for wear teapot and cups. She accepts the offered cup with a gracious nod, and it would seem that even in her bewilderment her manners prevail. 

  


He studies her over the rim of his cup, and she tries to meet his gaze levelly, despite feeling unravelled in the intensity of it. She wonders what he sees. Suddenly, his cup meets the table with a gentle clack, and the air of apprehension thickens. 

“So you want to know about the boy, eh?” she nods. 

  


“Alright, fine. But first, tell me something.” she nods again, though more reluctantly this time. 

  


“Did you get here entirely under your own steam, Miss Heartfilia?” Lucy's own mug meets the table with much more noise than Bron's. 

  


“W-what?” Well, there goes her tenuous composure. Bron smirks, and she realises he's not nearly as old as she first suspected. His smile takes off at least fifteen years from his lined face. 

  


“You heard. You're not easy to pick out, I tell you that, but I know what to look for. So I'll ask again – how did you get here?” she gulps. Cornered. 

  


“I walked, mostly. Bartered for transport where I could.” he's nodding in understanding, and it annoys her for some reason. “Why does it matter?” 

  


“It matters, because you've just told me everything I need to know. Daddy would never let you walk or travel with us lowly commonfolk – so Daddy doesn't know you're here. Am I right?” 

  


She blushes. Caught for sure. 

  


“What my father knows or doesn't isn't important right now. I need to know if you've heard from Ur or Gray! He's in terrible trouble!” The man studies her again, and she tries not to show her irritation. 

  


“Alright. I'll tell you.” Lucy tries not to sag too obviously into her chair. 

  


“Thank you.” he shakes his head. 

  


“Don't thank me yet. I'll tell you, but it isn't much, and you won't like it. I haven't heard from Ur, but I know that Lyon is back in town. He went with her to bring back the younger lad. You know they went off to fight something terrible?” She nods in apprehension. “Ur didn't make it out of that fight.” 

  


The floor may as well have dropped out from under them for how anchored to the ground Lucy feels in that moment. 

  


* 

“ _Yeah, she's pretty okay I guess. She's an amazing Ice Make wizard though, I don't think I've ever seen anyone so powerful. Someday, I hope I can make her proud.” Gray looks out at the sun, sinking below the horizon, and Lucy could be wrong, but she thinks the pink hue on his cheeks isn't from the sky._

  


_*_

  


“ _You know, I never thought someone would care about me again the way she does. A few years ago, she lost her daughter. I think me and her and Lyon...we all needed someone to...I don't know. Fill a space in our lives?_ Gah _that sounded sappy. You know what I mean though, right? Just. Don't ever tell her I said that.” Lucy laughs at the uncomfortable expression on his face, decides it can't hurt to make it worse a little, hugs his arm tightly and makes a promise._

  


_*_

  


“ _Hey, Lucy! I wondered how long it would be before you were back! You just can't stay away from this little cherub, huh?” Ur pinches both of their cheeks playfully, laughs loudly at their red faces and half hearted swipes at her hands._

  


“ _C'mon Ur, lay off!” Ur places her hands on her hips and looks down at her youngest pupil, the smirk never leaving her face._

  


“ _Oh yeah? You gonna make me?” Gray clenches his fists and growls in frustration, ice clinging to his now bare arms. Lucy stifles an embarrassed giggle when she realises he's lost the outermost layers of clothing and covers her eyes._

  


“ _Gray, your clothes!” His mortified yell is only drowned out by the booming and infectious laughter coming from the woman who taught him the technique a little too well._

  


_*_

  


Ur. How can Ur be – no. Lucy has too many fond memories of the tall woman with the kind eyes and wicked smile. Ur never failed to welcome Lucy on her visits, encouraged her back each time she left, made sure Gray was somewhat presentable for company when she arrived, even offered her a place to stay if she wanted it. 

  


“Ur...” Lucy feels lost. If Ur hadn't made it, then what could possibly have become of her boys? She's the strongest wizard Gray knows, and Lucy has seen her in action a time or two – certainly enough to verify her talent and fortitude. Gods, Gray must be _devastated_. 

  


Lucy doesn't realise her resolve has broken until Bron hands her a clean tissue. 

  


“I know sweetheart.” he pets her hair a little as she wipes hastily at her leaking eyes. 

  


“How can Ur be gone? And – wait. No, just wait. You said Lyon was back?” He nods gravely. 

  


“Her eldest student? He's set up back in their cabin, though I don't know if he'll be moving on again soon.” 

  


“So...if Ur is gone and Lyon is here...then where's Gray?” The man shrugs, and Lucy's already frayed emotions have her on a hair trigger. 

  


“You must have heard something, man!” The man shrugs again. 

  


“Only Lyon knows the answer to that one, sweetie. I suggest you go visit when you've calmed down a little, huh?” She sits back and has the grace to look a little ashamed. 

  


“Right. Sorry.” She fiddles with her cup again, mind heavy with the revelation Bron has presented to her. She loses herself in thought for a moment, trying hard to stay away from thoughts of Gray. It's difficult. She has to pull herself together. 

  


“Bron, thank you for the tea, and for...telling me. I have to go.” The man nods quietly and gives her a briefly contemplative glance. 

  


“A girl your age shouldn't be travelling on her own. I promise to give you a head start, but tomorrow I'll let the guard know your here. If anything, you father must be worried sick.” Lucy tries not to show the guilt she feels at that. 

“That's fair, I guess. Thank you again, Bron. Is there anything I can do to repay your kindness?” The man smiles politely in response and shakes his head. 

  


“Make sure the kid's okay, that's good enough for me. Be safe, miss.” Lucy nods her acceptance and takes it as leave to go. She slips silently back out into the street and heads for the city gates. 

  


There's a little cabin, tucked neatly away in forever snow dusted woods, quiet in isolation but warm and welcoming within. She's long overdue a visit. 


	5. I Won't Let You Fall

The cabin is eerily silent. Lucy tries to reconcile the home in front of her with the one of her memories – full of life and laughter, shouts and arguments and a faint tingle of magical power that filled the air like a crisp breeze. Not this. The very atmosphere of the clearing where it lies nestled is dark and smothering, like the forest itself is in mourning. There are no sounds drifting through the cracks under the door, the curtains have been pulled shut, and Lucy has a feeling the chimney hasn't felt the heat of a fire in weeks. Ice gathers across the window panes like delicate lace and she shivers, pulling her thick coat tighter around her shoulders.

 

She prays that Bron was right, prays that his information isn't outdated, prays that despite the uninhabited appearance, Lyon is somewhere within those draughty wooden walls.

 

She steps forward, sliding a little on the virgin snow that has piled on the steps leading up to the front door. Steeling herself, she takes a deep breath and raps smartly on the wood.

 

She waits.

And waits.

And waits some more, straining her ears for the smallest sound.

 

She knocks again, a little more desperate this time, holding her breath to hear over the shallow inhalations. And- there! A shifting swish, like fabric dragging against wood. It falls silent again, but she knows there is definitely someone inside.

 

“Lyon?” she calls anxiously. There's no reply, but she didn't expect one. If the sharp eyed boy is here alone, she wouldn't be surprised if he refused to speak to anyone. Lord only knows just what exactly Lyon saw that caused him to return by himself. Lucy bites her lip and wills down the rising feeling of helplessness. She will not break – not now.

 

“Lyon, I know you're in there! It's Lucy. Please, I just want to talk to you.” She tries to gentle her tone, doesn't want to give him any reason to keep her locked out. Her call goes unanswered for a long moment, and Lucy has raised her hand once more to knock when she notices the curtains to her left fluttering. A pale shock of hair is visible through the gap, and she thinks she catches sight of a sharply furrowed eyebrow slanting over a narrowed eye.

 

“Lyon?”

 

A patter of feet against hardwood, then the door inches open.

 

“What do _you_ want?” his voice is hoarse, nothing like the smooth silken tones she's used to. For some reason, it makes her infinitely more sad to hear the tired haughtiness in his voice.

 

“Oh, Lyon,” she whispers, a strained smile making its way across her lips as she holds back the dampness in her eyes. “what happened to you?”

 

She can't see his face well, but it's impossible to miss the way his shadow recoils.

 

“Why do you care?” he tries for something strong, but it seems to fall short and comes out a whisper. Lucy puts her hand on the door and moves it open another inch against his now loose grip.

 

“Why wouldn't I care? I was so worried about you...about all of you. Especially when I heard you were here all alone...I'm so glad you're okay!” the door swings in a little more, and it's enough for her to squeeze through and throw her arms around the slim shoulders of the rigid boy. He is stiff and unmoving, and twitches as though he wants to throw her off.

 

But...he doesn't. He doesn't return the hug like she wants so badly for him to do, but he doesn't push her away either. Instead he bows his head and rests it gently against hers for but a moment before pulling out of her grip. When she looks up into his face, he casts his eyes to the ground and takes a step back, shoulders tight. Lucy hates this, hates to see him so unsure and hurting. The cloak of brash confidence has been torn away, and all that is left is a little boy with no family and nowhere to turn. He seems to cast about for something to say, but promptly shuts his mouth with an audible click and turns on his heel.

 

Lucy hesitates. This is unknown territory. Her and Lyon were never particularly close, what with Lucy spending most of her time with Gray, and the rivalry that existed between the two boys. Though they hadn't spent a great deal of time together, Lucy still loves him like family. She had been accepted into Ur's family unit by the woman herself, and they had spent many shared dinners together in the little dining room off to her left. It was wrong to say she didn't know Lyon, but she would be lying to say she knew what sorts of thoughts might be crossing his mind. Had it been Gray she would have no problem predicting this, and suddenly she feels his absence as a deep and aching hole somewhere below her ribcage. If it were Gray she would know _what to do._

 

Instead of wallowing too much on that train of thought, Lucy glances around the house. There is a thin layer of dust on almost everything except the floor and the lamps. The coat rack by the door is empty, there is no warmth from the unlit fire, and as she moves through the house following Lyon, she sees that there are open tins of beans lying on the floor next to a pile of blankets. Lucy comes to the startling realisation that Lyon has been squatting in his own home. She watches him return to the pile of blankets and self-consciously brush the empty cans behind him with a furtive glance in her direction. She pretends not to notice and moves to the cold stove.

 

“Okay.” Lyon looks up at the sound of her voice.

 

“Okay?” he asks. She nods.

 

“Yep. You're going to have a hot meal, we're going to clean up the spare room, and then I'll make us some hot chocolate.” She nods again and begins tying back her hair while examining the stove. Surely it can't be _that_ different from the ones in her father's kitchen back home, right? She casts her mind back to the times when she'd watched her mother preheat the massive ovens to bake the treats they had spent all afternoon making together. Sometimes they would make pancakes, and she would use the burners on top of the stove. She remembers her mother twiddling the knobs on the front of the cooker, pressing down on a button that lit a bright blue spark to catch the gas billowing from the rings. It takes a couple of tries to get it right, but Lucy eventually manages to light one of the rings at the front with a satisfied smile.

 

She digs through the cupboards and fridge looking for anything edible, finds some tins of chopped tomatoes and a pack of dried pasta, then searches for some pots. Meanwhile, Lyon has emerged from his blankets to stand in the doorway and watches her with guarded eyes.

 

“What are you doing?” he asks. Lucy smiles as brightly as she can manage and hands him a large empty pot.

 

“What does it look like, silly? I'm making dinner! Can you go fill this pot with cold water please, about halfway? The instructions on the packet say the pasta needs to be boiled.” He takes the pot with a confused look, opens his mouth to speak, then seems to think better of it and does as he's told. Lucy tries not to make it too obvious that she has no idea what she's doing, but figures making some kind of sauce can't be much harder than the basic stew Crux taught her how to make over a campfire on the open road. She dumps the tomatoes in a pot and puts it over the heat, then goes back to looking for anything she can add. She finds a reasonably edible onion in the cupboard under the sink and some dried herbs in one of the drawers. There's a block of cheese in the fridge that probably has a little too much mould growing on one side, but she cuts it away and starts slicing it into small, neat cubes.

 

Lyon returns with the pot and places it on the stove, then copies Lucy's earlier motions and lights another ring to heat the water before standing back to watch her work. She smiles lightly at him in thanks and goes back to stirring the basic sauce she's managed to pull together.

 

“Lyon, would you please set the table?” she says distractedly.

 

“Why?” comes his petulant reply.

 

“Because,” Lucy lifts the wooden spoon out the pot and brandishes it in his direction. “this might not be the fanciest food, but we will eat it like civilised people! I've had enough of sitting in the dirt to eat over the last few weeks. So please.” She gestures to him again and turns back to the stove.

 

If Lucy had looked back, she would have seen a slightly stunned boy staring at her in awe before rummaging in the top drawer for some cutlery. She smiles to herself at the clinking of metal on metal and hums as she finishes their dinner. Lyon helps her drain the pasta after she struggles to lift it to the sink, and they fill their plates with as much as they can carry back to the table. Lyon slides into a seat across from her and immediately digs into the steaming plate of pasta like he hasn't eaten in weeks. Lucy takes her time, careful not to burn her mouth. The food is mediocre at best, but there is a certain pride that fills her knowing that she made it all on her own.

 

When Lyon has eaten most of what is on his plate, they nibble on cubes of cheese in silence and study each other across the table. He doesn't look all that worse for wear, she notes, other than his unkempt appearance and a thin but healing cut on the side of his neck. If anything, she thinks he just looks _tired_. Not in the way people get when they stay up most of the night, or have had a hard days work, but more in that he looked positively weary, eyes dull and shoulders fighting to stay straight under her gaze.

 

She decides not to push him tonight. Instead, she stands from the table and picks up their plates to deposit in the empty sink for later. Lucy walks back through the dining room and beckons for Lyon to follow her into the spare bedroom. There must be a reason Lyon hasn't been sleeping in his own bed, she thinks, but the boy needs a real bed nonetheless. If he can't stay in his room, then the guest bedroom will have to do. Under her guidance, they both strip the dusty bedding like she's watched her maids do so many times before while another brushes out her hair in front of the vanity.

 

It used to be her mother standing behind her, spun gold slipping through her fingers and the teeth of a comb, smiling at her daughter in their reflection as Lucy watched her twist and curl her hair into something playful and silly before doing it properly. Nowadays, her mother's maid has taken up the duty, and with no playful brown eyes to watch any more Lucy has taken to studying the only other movement in the room. She supposes that something useful has come from the painful memories after all.

 

Together, Lucy and Lyon search out some clean linens and haphazardly make up the bed. It's nowhere near neat, but it doesn't have to be neat to be comfortable. Lucy upholds her promise and goes to make some hot chocolate for them both, subtly hinting that perhaps Lyon would enjoy a bath before getting into a clean bed. Lyon scowls, but catches sight of his dull hair and dirt smudged face in the reflection of the kettle and retreats to the bathroom.

Lyon is quick to wash up and joins her not ten minutes later to accept a mug of chocolate from her outstretched hands. They settle down in the spare bedroom, and Lucy is glad to see the small spark of something in his eyes as he sinks down into the comforter and clutches the mug between two hands as if absorbing the heat. She takes his mug from loose hands when his eyes begin to slip shut, grins and at the half hearted murmur of “give 't back” and flicks off the lights as his breathing evens out into something relaxed and peaceful.

 

She retreats from the room and leans hard against the closed door, blinking back the moisture that has once again threatened to spill from her eyes. For all his hard edges and sharp lines, she knows that Lyon's initial hostility was a facade. He hasn't once smiled so far, has been on edge from the minute she arrived, and only now has he finally relaxed enough to sleep when he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open. What hurts and heals the most is that he actually allowed her to push him into doing things he has obviously not bothered to do when alone. His clothes are in a state of disrepair, probably from living and sleeping in them for weeks. He was filthy, which is most unlike the proud and prim boy that would carefully gel his hair every morning before allowing even Ur to see him. He hadn't been sleeping or eating properly, that much is obvious. Since when did Lyon take orders from anyone?

 

Lucy suspects that perhaps Lyon just needed someone to take care of him for a while. Finding himself alone in the world, especially as a child, can't have been an easy thing. Lyon clearly had no idea how to cook, how to clean, how to even build a fire. (Not entirely surprising for an Ice mage, she supposes).

 

She goes back to the kitchen and begins washing up the dinner plates and pots with a small sigh. Lucy is glad that Lyon has allowed her to do all of this, but it concerns her that it had to be done in the first place. Why wasn't he taking care of himself? What had happened that cast him into such darkness? And what had happened to Gray?

 

She realises that she hasn't thought much of her dearest friend in the last couple of hours, solely focused on keeping Lyon from falling any further. She feels guilty, but quickly comes to the realisation that while Gray is currently out of her reach, Lyon is right here and needs her help. She may have originally come up north in search of one boy, but her family consists of two and they are both important in their own way.

 

With that in mind, she goes to Gray's room and settles down for the night, taking in the familiar sketches and magical theory that plaster one wall and the photographs that are carefully tacked to the other. Her eyes slip shut with the image of Ur's smile lingering behind her eyelids.

 

 

*            *           *

 

 

Lucy doesn't know what time it is when she drags herself out of bed and to the small bathroom, only that it's still morning judging by the light outside. The guest room door is still shut tight, so she assumes Lyon is still asleep. She washes up quickly, realising there is very little hot water to bed had and not wanting to take an icy shower. She combs through her hair with her fingertips and brushes her teeth before dressing in a somewhat clean shirt and trousers from Gray's dresser. Her clothes are all dirty or worn through after travelling for so long on the road, so she doesn't feel too bad about commandeering some of her friends clothes for the day. Lyon is up and curled on the couch when she emerges, but he barely spares her a glance. She greets him with a smile and moves over the the fireplace.

 

She is once again glad of Crux's invaluable instruction while she travelled, otherwise she would have never known how to stack the logs properly, or to place the kindling just so, or how to use spark rocks. The fire roars to life in minutes, and Lucy sighs in delight as the heat curls around her toes and caresses her cool skin.

 

“How did you know how to do that? Aren't you some kind of noble?” She glances over to the boy on the couch, now looking at her with calculating eyes that seem brighter in the firelight.

 

“My spirits taught me so I'd be able to keep warm overnight on the way here. Would you like to learn how?” He doesn't answer immediately, seemingly thinking her response through. Finally he nods.

 

“It's a useful skill to have. I have another question though.” he moves to sit beside her, greedily leaning into the warmth the flames provide. He turns to look at her, curiosity dancing in his gaze. “Why are you here, and why are you alone?”

 

Lucy looks into the fire and shrugs. It's a fair question, and she had been wondering how long it would take for him to ask it.

 

“I'm here because Gray wrote me a letter weeks ago saying he was going to do something stupid and dangerous. I'm here alone because my father would never have allowed me to come.” She notices the way he tenses at the mention of Gray.

 

“That's an understatement. That bastard...” Lyon growls and curls further in on himself. His voice is tight with anger. She resists the urge to place a hand on his arm, watching how he retreats into himself.

 

“Lyon.” he glances her way for a brief second, then casts his gaze back to the fire. “Please. I know about Ur,” she almost loses her nerve at the full body flinch that statement receives, but pushes onward. “I know s-she's gone. Please, tell me what happened?”

 

He shakes his head stubbornly and pulls further away.

 

“She was your mother, I know. And I...I know what it's like to lose a mother. But the only thing that helped during that time was to have friends around me. I had you, and Gray and Ur. Not all the time, but I knew you were all there if I needed you. You are all like family to me, and because of that I wasn't alone. And I'm not going to let you do this alone.” she reaches out and finally, finally allows her fingers to brush across his shoulder. He doesn't pull away again, but looks at her with eyes so full of rage and grief that she has to stop herself from throwing her arms around him again.

 

“Do not talk to me of family. I had a family once, before I found Ur. They were horrible people and I'm glad I'll never see their faces again. Ur had her own family too, before either of us. We were just shadows to her, filling a void. And Gray?” he spits out a harsh laugh, like broken glass. “Gray Fullbuster is no family of mine! It's his fault that Ur is dead in the first place!”

 

Lucy recoils at the angry tears sparkling in Lyon's eyes.

 

“Lyon...” she whispers his name like a broken breeze trying to calm a hurricane. He ignores her, bursting to his feet with a fresh surge of energy that she hasn't seen since _before_ , fuelled by the pent up rage that has been brewing for so long. He paces the length of the room once, twice, before whirling around to face her with eyes blazing.

 

“You want to know what really happened?” he sneers. _Yes_ , she wants to beg, _but not like this._

 

“What happened is that Gray ran off to play hero, to _avenge_ his dead parents. He ran away and left nothing but a note saying he would be back in a week. You know, it _really_ wasn't hard to figure out what he was doing considering the stories that had been flying about the town. There was something attacking cities, something fifty feet high with a roar like mountains crashing together. A _monster_. You know Ur cried the night we left to go get him? She actually cried. I've only seen her cry once before, and it was over her _dead daughter_. But did he care?! NO! He was so full of his own shit that he thought he could actually kill a demon by himself!” Lyon aims a wild kick at a nearby chair on his way past, sending it clattering to the floor with a deafening crash. Lucy flinches hard at the sudden noise and stares wide eyes at the boy. Lyon clenches his fists as hard as his jaw, chest heaving and nostrils flaring. She's never seen the cool and collected boy so out of control before, and for a moment she is scared. She's scared, that is, until she spots the tear tracks on his cheeks, the frustrated stuttering to his breathing. She bites back tears of her own as a profound sadness for the boy in front of her sweeps over her like a dark cloud. His suffering is plain for her to see in the way he cannot hold back the tide of words that spill from his lips, dam bursting after weeks of silence.

 

“We caught up to him eventually. The idiot didn't even have a plan. He was just standing there, watching it trash building after building. Everything was on fire, there was smoke everywhere, and in the middle of it all...that _thing_ was standing there. I could swear it was laughing...”

 

Lyon turns back to the fire, shoulders slumped and eyes far away seeing things that Lucy hopes she'll never even dream of.

 

“He told us to go, didn't want us interfering. Probably thought we were going to steal his _glory_.” the sneer returns briefly, but it is a tired, worn thing that doesn't last long on his young face. “He figured out pretty quickly that none of his attacks were doing anything to it. If anything, I think he only succeeded in annoying it a little. It took notice of us at any rate, and attacked us. Ur managed to get us out of the way at first, but it was too strong. She had to -” he cuts off, eyes screwed up against the memories.

 

Lucy moves to him quickly, slipping an arm around his shoulder in support and guiding him to sit back down on the rug with her. He doesn't protest, and that is possibly the most telling of all. He leans into her slightly before pulling back to curl his arms around his knees. She thinks to herself that he's never looked so young.

 

“There was only one way to stop it. Ur used forbidden magic, a spell she'd developed herself. I have no idea why she thought she'd need something like it, but...she used Iced Shell.” He sees the confusion written across Lucy's face and heaves a sigh. “Iced Shell uses the spirit and body of the caster to entirely encase a target in unmeltable ice. It imprisons them forever. But it also destroys the caster. She gave her life to stop the demon from hurting anyone else.” Lyon crumples inwards, and Lucy hugs him tightly as tears leak from her own eyes. Hearing about Ur's fate is horrible and wrong, and so stupidly honourable that it hurts to even consider it so. Lyon back shudders beneath her hands, and she can feel her sleeve grow damp where his face is pressed tight to her arm.

 

She holds him tight and allows them both to grieve for the bright, wonderful, snark of a woman who meant such different things to each of them, but fundamentally the same. He doesn't comment on the tears he feels in his hair, or the fact that he feels slightly suffocated in her arms. He merely sinks into the embrace and refuses to feel selfish for greedily snatching up what comfort he can when it is so readily offered.

 

After what feels like a lifetime, their legs fuzzy and tingling and their eyes swollen, Lucy withdraws her arms and takes one of his hands instead, anchoring him so he isn't swept away in his grief once more. They sit together in peaceful silence for a while and he contemplates how his chest feels slightly lighter as if a weight has been shifted.

 

“I'm so sorry.” Lucy doesn't speak above a hoarse whisper, but he's sitting close enough to hear clearly.

 

“Me too.”

 

After a while, she stands up and releases her hold on his hand to make a quick lunch. It consists mainly of barely filled sandwiches she picked up in town and a glass of water, but it does the trick. They eat in silence, both thinking over what was shared.

 

“What happened afterwards?” Lyon looks like he knew the question was coming.

 

“We fought. I told him it was his fault, and he was never to come home again if he knew what was good for him.” Lucy stares at him with wide and hurt eyes.

 

“It wasn't his fault, Lyon.”

 

“Wasn't it?”

 

“No.” comes her forceful reply. She sets her sandwich down and stares at him over the table. He stares back defiantly. “No.” she says, quietly. “It was his fault you were all there in the first place, that's true. But he didn't force Ur to use that spell. She could have run, you could have all escaped relatively unharmed. Ur _chose_ to give her life to save not just you two, but everyone else that creature would have hurt. You said it yourself. She did it so that demon wouldn't harm anyone else.”

 

Lyon shakes his head angrily.

 

“Of course you're on his side! I should have known you would defend him. Tch.” He looks away, hurt crossing his features for a moment before he closes off.

 

“I'm not on _his_ side, Lyon. I'm on _both_ sides – I'm on Ur's side! She sacrificed herself so that neither of you had to! Her choice was honourable and terrible and it has saved _so_ many lives. Don't disrespect her in this way. Do you honestly think that if Ur didn't want to do something, Gray Fullbuster of all people could make her? Or you, for that matter? How do you think she would react, knowing that you banished him from her home? And,” she holds a hand up to stop the angry retort she sees coming. “I don't doubt for a second that he said something equally terrible and hurtful to you beforehand or in return. She would be furious to see the two of you acting like this!”

 

Lyon has the good graces to look a little ashamed at her admonishment.

 

“Please, Lyon. You and Gray...you're all either of you have left in this world. I love you both, but I can't always be here. In fact,” she wrings her hands nervously. “I have a funny feeling I'll never be allowed to leave home again after this. Which means that you two need to get your act together right now! The two of you need to make this right.” She pleads with him like her life is at stake, and he stares at her open mouthed for the longest time before seemingly coming to a decision.

 

“Look, Lucy...it's not as easy as all that. I get what you're saying, and I guess _really_ deep down that I know you're right, but I wouldn't even know where to start looking for him. I don't know where he went, and even if I did we'd probably kill each other on sight. Things were...really bad when we went our separate ways, and I'm still furious with him.”

 

Lucy sighs and tries not to cry in frustration. These stupid boys!

 

“Just think about it for a while. Everything is still fresh and I know that it hurts so much right now, but he's feeling he exact same way. At least you have me here, but he has nobody. You need each other Lyon, even if you won't admit it to yourself. Who else can match you well enough to actually give you some competition?” a small smirk plays at her mouth, and he grudgingly returns it.

 

“It _has_ been a little boring, I admit.” The smirk turns into a full-blown grin at his words, and they finish their lunch in peace.

 

It's when they're sitting in front of the fire again that she remembers to ask.

 

“Hey.” Lyon looks up from the comic book he's scanning through. It's dog-eared and curling at the edges, and she thinks he must have read the same story a hundred times to let it get in that condition. He tilts his head for her to finish her thought.

 

“Why haven't you been sleeping in your room?” she asks gently. Lyon doesn't answer for a minute, then lowers his gaze. Apparently coming to a decision, he stands and gestures for her to follow him to the tightly closed door off the hallway. When he opens the door and stands back to let her see in, she understands.

 

Every surface of the room is filled with framed photos, every blank space on the walls papered with tacked up prints. Faces smile out at them from all sides, and it's almost like stepping through a wormhole to another time. The ones on the units further back are all of Ur and a much younger Lyon, back when his hair stuck up of its own accord and not the mountains of styling products he employs nowadays. There are a few of them training, but most of the photos are candid shots of them around the village or of Ur by herself smiling at something out of the frame. Near the front at similar photographs, but now Gray features alongside the duo often wearing a scowl of differing intensities.

 

A similar story is written across the walls, Ur and Lyon slowly being joined by the other boy. The three of them sitting around the dinner table, Ur gesticulating wildly while Lyon laughs, a small smile pulling at Gray's normally sullen expression. Another of them all sitting around the fountain in the village – Lucy and Gray's fountain, where it all began – Ur in the middle of splashing the unaware boys as they pull each other's hair. Further around the room, she starts to see hints of yellow showing up, and realises that she has also been included in some of the photos. Lucy's eyes water when she sees how many photos she's been captured in. In most of them she is by Gray's side, both of them grinning at each other like mad people. Then there are others. In one, Ur has her secured under one arm, clearly laughing as she rubs a handful of snow into Lucy's golden hair. Another from a training mishap – Lucy trying to chip Taurus out an ice block while Lyon laughs behind them, the obvious culprit. There's one near the door that catches her eye, and she wanders over to pull it down from the wall.

 

Lyon watches her carefully as she steps back towards him, eyes shining at the paper in her hands. She looks up and grins widely, tears falling down her face when she holds out the picture for him to see. It had been taken the very last time Lucy had come to visit. All four of them are sitting out in the snow, Ur with her legs splayed out to accommodate the two boys who have slotted themselves between them and under either arm. Lucy is sat in the middle of the two, arms thrown around both of them as she grins at the camera and pulls the boys close. Lyon looks slightly disgruntled in the photo, but a small smile is plain as day as he looks up at Ur. Gray is looking at Lucy with a matching grin, one of his hands tugging lightly on the ends of her hair. Ur appears both highly amused and resigned to her fate of acting as a jungle gym for the three kids.

 

Lyon looks at the photo for a long minute, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. He looks up at the girl in front of him and sees the joy and sorrow in her eyes, watches her take another look around the room so filled with memories, then steps back out of the doorway. She sighs and turns to leave the photo on his bed, but something makes him call out.

 

“Keep it.” She turns to him with eyes so full of hope that he knows he has made the right decision.

 

“But these are your memories, Lyon.” her protest is genuine, as much as she clearly wants the photo. He shakes his head.

 

“Not all of them. Some of them belong to all of us.” and with that he leaves the room entirely and goes back to the fire. She joins him not long afterwards.

 

“You know,” she starts, tracing a finger over the faces in the photograph. “I'll have to leave soon. My father's men will be here to collect me. This will probably be the last time I'll be here for...a long, long time. I'm so grounded.” She sighs. It makes a small chuckle burst out their mouths at the same time, something so small as a grounding after the weeks they've both had.

 

“I fully believe that. I can't believe you actually ran away.” He shakes his head in wonder and casts a speculative look over the girl sitting besides him. “I knew you were at least a little bit wild for an heiress, but this takes the cake. You are _so_ grounded.” He laughs again, less startled and more amused.

 

“Oh Gods, don't I know it!” she closes her eyes and tilts her head back with a pained groan.

 

“What will you do now, Lyon?”

 

He doesn't expect the quiet question and turns a startled look to the girl beside him. She still has her eyes closed, but her lips are pursed in a thoughtful frown. He thinks.

 

“I don't know. I- I want to continue learning magic. But I also don't have a teacher anymore. I guess I should find out where that imbecile went off to at some point too...” he sighs and leans back on his hands. Lucy cracks on eye open and shoots him a look. He rolls his eyes. “Oh alright, so I suppose that's what I should do first.” she closes her eye again and nods.

 

“Yes you should. And you should write to me every once in a while too. With a return address if you please, so I can reply if you're travelling somewhere. And if you do manage to track down Gray then you can punch him for worrying me, then punch him again for not being here when I came looking. That reminds me -” Lyon flinches back in shock, watching Lucy wring out her fist.

 

“What the hell?!” She gives him another look, but this one is _scary_.

 

“Well it's not just his fault he isn't here, _is it_?” Lyon scowls and rolls his shoulders, trying to throw off the dull ache in his arm. Lucy is apparently stronger than she looks.

 

“Fair enough.” It's quiet again, then-

 

“What if you joined a guild?” He gives her another pondering look.

 

“A guild? Why would I do that?” she rolls her eyes.

 

“Because you said you wanted to keep learning magic, didn't you? And then you'd stay in one place so I could always reach you if I needed to. Plus it's going to be almost impossible to find Gray alone, especially if you have no idea where he was heading. Guilds have resources. You,” she poked his nose. “do not.”

 

“Since when are you so clued up about wizard guilds?” he challenges, batting her finger away.

 

“Well...one of these days I'm going to join a guild myself. I don't want to grow up and marry someone that daddy picked for me, or run a house and never be allowed to use magic. I secretly took out a subscription to Sorcerer Weekly last year and my maids help me hide it from my father. It tells you all about the guilds across Fiore!” she digs around in her backpack that has been sitting on the couch since lunch and pulls out a battered magazine before thrusting it into his arms.

 

“You can look them up in this and choose for yourself if it's something you want to do. It's up to you, but I think that you should really think about it, okay?” Lyon stares down at the front cover, a scantily clad woman with some kind of snake woman tattooed on her thigh in green staring back.

 

“Uhh...are you sure this is a wizarding magazine?” she takes the edition from his hands and whacks him over the head with it before returning it.

 

“Yes. They just happen to do photo shoots with beautiful wizards. Quite a lot.” she flushes and stands up. “I better get back to town, Bron has probably alerted my fathers guards by now. Stupid question, I know, but...will you be okay?” the concern in her eyes is both warming and overwhelming in intensity. He manages a small nod.

 

“Eventually. Lucy, I-” he looks down, searching for something to say. “Thank you. For everything.”

 

She pulls him off the ground and swiftly embraces him before he can run away. When she lets go, her smile is like sunlight.

 

“You're my brother, Lyon. Stay in touch, okay? And try to learn how to cook some basic meals, you know I saw those cold beans you've been eating. If you need anything, speak to Bron in town. Oh!” she turns back to her pack, and Lyon is left adrift by the speed of her speech. She turns back with a small bag which clinks slightly. He almost drops it when she hands it over, not expecting the sudden weight.

 

“What-”

 

“Nope, no questions, just keep it hidden and use it for food and travel if you need to. Don't go crazy with it, you never know when you'll need a rainy day fund. Got it?” Lucy sends him a sunny smile at his flabbergasted expression, pulls him into another brief hug, then picks up the rest of her things.

 

“I'll miss you, you know. I mean it. Don't forget to write, okay? If you ever need anything, _anything_ at all, let me know. Family comes first. Remember that.” Lyon nods numbly, watches her move over to the windows at the front door and throw open the heavy curtains. Sunlight filters through the dirty glass, and he feels the urge to sneeze watching the glowing specks of dust swirling through the rays.

 

“Guess it was time to let a little light back in here, I'm sick of living in the dark.” He offers her a warm smile, one she readily returns, and watches her slip out the front door.

 

_Maybe she's right_ , he thinks, picking up the discarded copy of Sorcerers Weekly. _Maybe it's time to live in the light._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooooo, so sorry guys. I know it's been a hella long time since my last update, but things kind of got in the way, then I lost my thread of thought with the story and one thing led to another... hopefully this chapter will make up for my absence?   
> I just want to say, thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read and review, even when it probably looked like I was never coming back to most of you. I appreciate your feedback more than you could possibly know.
> 
> I'll try to be better with my update schedule from now on :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading :) hopefully this story will be a few chapters long, but it's my first fic in this fandom and I'm still trying to get a feel for the characters. Let me know if there's anything you think I can improve on - I would love to get some feedback on it!


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